


Just Us

by QueenOfGlacia



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Beaches, But Yuri Didn't Know, First Dates, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Picnics, Rated for Yuri's language, Stargazing, The 2nd Time He Did Know, They Went on a Date, tea room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 06:38:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15835806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfGlacia/pseuds/QueenOfGlacia
Summary: Otabek Altin, the bastard, just smiles that calm, gentle, barely-there smile of his.—-Otabek visits Yuri in St. Petersburg during the summer





	Just Us

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I have missed writing for these boys SO MUCH

Otabek Altin is an enigma.   
  
Yuri Plisetsky tries to understand what separates Otabek from the other skaters, especially those in their own agr group.  
  
It may be that Otabek never hangs out with anyone. It may be that Otabek remembers Yuri from all those years ago. Maybe it’s the fact that Otabek is his first friend. Or that despite all of Yuri’s shouting, and complaints about Victor and the other Yuuri, Otabek still likes him.  
  
Or maybe, Yuri thinks as he glares at his phone, it’s that Otabek Altin never publishes anything at all on any social media.  
  
It’s been months and months since Otabek last posted anything on Instagram, whereas Yuri himself does so daily. Be it about his cat, or his training or selfies of him making disgusted faces at Victor and Katsudon being _disgustingly_ in love.   
  
If one were to ask Yuri about that particular deal, to ask if he is like that because he is jealous, Yuri would shout loud enough for Otabek to hear him all the way over in Almaty.  
  
Otabek never posts, never likes, never comments. Yuri is used to it, used to getting almost no response to his texts and snapchats - but at least Otabek yielded and set up a snapchat account, even though Yuri suspects the account only ever gets notifications from him.  
  
Truth be told, it makes Yuri feel special.  
  
Knowing that Otabek made an account _just for him_ , that _Yuri_ -out of everyone else -  is the one who gets these small looks into Otabek’s daily life… It leaves Yuri feeling appreciated and special and… Okay, it makes his heart stutter, and, the few times Otabek sends selfies (even when only a small part of his face appears on the screen) in return, Yuri feels warm inside.  
  
Otabek finally, fucking finally comes to visit.  
  
It’s the summer after they met (properly) and became friends, and they’ve barely met since then, since Yuri won his gold, and the few moments when they’ve competed on the same rink have been too far in between and far far too short for Yuri’s liking.  
  
But now Otabek is here.  
  
Now Yuri can walk the streets of Saint Petersburg with him, can show him his favourite places in person, rather than through the lense of a camera. Now Yuri can tell him about it and watch Otabek listen to what he says, rather than having miles and miles and a phone distorting their voices.  
  
The first place Yuri takes Otabek to is a small tea room, hidden away in the older, narrower streets of the city.   
  
While Yuri’s never been the biggest fan of the beverage, it had become their _thing_ a year ago, and so he feels that it’s only right to take Otabek to a place that will remind them of their first day as friends. Just without getting interrupted and discovering someone got engaged (without one of them not knowing they were until that moment that is).  
  
It’s an old place, with old furniture and a silence that is anything but pressing.  
  
The sofas and armchairs are comfortable, clearly having been re-stuffed since they were made, and the worn wood and fabrics only add to the atmosphere.   
The sound of the outside world is muffled, music so low it can barely be heard playing over the speakers and it even sounds old; played on records, on gramophones, not something modern and out of place.  
In short, it’s like stepping back in time.  
  
Along the walls there are cases of books, stretching from floor to ceiling, all of them old, all protected by glass doors.  
  
If one knows where to look, one can find newer books that are offered for reading while enjoying tea, and Yuri points out the cleverly hidden places to Otabek as they walk through the old building, made up of small rooms which means there are nooks and crannies all over, perfect for seclusion.  
  
They end up at the very back, seated in old chair made of dark wood and red fabric faded so much from age and weart that the pattern is barely visible.  
  
Yuri is just about to rise from his chair to order for them, when Otabek tells him to stay seated, and that he’ll order for the both of them.  
When Yuri questions this by saying Otabek doesn’t even know what he wants, Otabek just looks at him in that particular way and then walks off without another word.   
  
Unlike Otabek, Yuri knows nothing of the brewing of tea, the rituals involved or the difference between the types.  
  
Yuri likes what he likes, simple as that, and so when Otabek returns after what feels like ages, holding one steaming cup of tea (china so fancy it looks like something Lilia would have locked away in one of her many cabinets, used for display only) and a _podstakannik_ , he feels his heart skip a beat.  
  
Because unlike the tea in the cup (that Otabek puts down on his own side of the table), the _podstakannik_ Otabek hands him contains cold tea, _iced tea_ which is the only version of the beverage Yuri drinks.  
  
“Beka… You remembered,” Yuri says, and damn the gods, he sounds surprised, sounds like he’d never expect this of anyone.  
“Yura,” Otabek replies, using a matching nickname in return and Yuri almost spills his tea. “Of course.”  
  
It’s the first time Yuri’s heard the nickname, and it leaves him feeling warm and confused, heart fluttering.  
Otabek’s used it before, but only ever in written form, and hearing it said out loud, in _that voice_ and _that tone_ is almost too much.   
And the statement itself… it is _so simple_ , but to have someone remember something about him, to have someone who is a _friend_ and not a _fan_ remember something Yuri’s sure he’s only mentioned in passing is a wonder.  
  
Otabek Altin is a wonder.  
  
He listens when Yuri talks, never interrupts him, always lets him speak his mind. Otabek never scolds him with words, and the few times he feels the need, he gives Yuri this _look_ , and it’s all it takes to make Yuri take a breath and hold his tongue.   
  
They wander through the streets of the town, ice melting before they can eat a third of it.  
  
Yuri can barely resist licking the ice off of Otabek’s fingers, so he looks away and cleans off his own instead, which means he misses the way Otabek’s eyes grow wider and darker as he does, that he doesn’t see how much he affect the older man.   
  
As they walk, Yuri points out places both new and old.  
  
Yuri shows him what Otabek’s only seen in pictures, on short videos on snapchat (that Otabek’s yet to learn how to save for later). And he shows him other places; some that are harder to show in pictures and others that Yuri’s discovered when taking walks through the city to clear his mind but haven’t yet visited himself.  
  
And all the while, Otabek just listens.  
  
What Yuri doesn’t know, is that Otabek listens to his voice rather than the words; to the tone of Yuri’s voice and the emotions, rather than the history. But Otabek does pay attention to Yuri’s own, personal opinions of the places, what they mean to him and his own history when it comes to them.  
  
Otabek listens and remembers, because this is important. _Yuri_ is important.   
  
Then, one day, Yuri gets a notification from instagram that proves to be the last thing he’d expected, and for a long time he does nothing but stare at his screen, even after it turns black, even as Otabek walks into him because he stopped so abruptly.  
  
“Yura?” Otabek asks in such a calm yet concerned manner. As if he doesn’t know what he is done.  
  
Yuri doesn’t answer, instead he unlock his phone, opens the app and looks at the image Otabek posted, now a full four minutes ago.  
He looks at it, not taking in the details or reading the text underneath, not comprehending the oh so few words. No, he just looks, and Yuri sees himself.  
Then he focuses, sees his hair braided, posture relaxed, back turned unsuspecting towards the camera, towards _Otabek._   
  
“The fuck, Beka?!” he asks, but there’s no real anger, no malice to his voice, just curiosity really.  
“Hmmm?” Otabek hums and if he truly doesn’t know what he is just done, well then… “Do you want me to take it down?” he asks, and Yuri whips around, braid almost slapping Otabek across his stupid face.  
“No!” Yuri exclaims, and this time there _is_ anger there, but the anger’s more about the potential loss of the picture, of _what it means_.  
  
Even if Otabek might not know what and how much it means to Yuri.  
  
Earlier that day, Otabek had braided Yuri’s hair when Yuri had seemed conflicted about wearing his hair up in a ponytail or to leave it as usual.  
“Come here,” he had said, patting a chair and standing behind it, waiting for Yuri to sit.  
Otabek’s gotten good at it over the years, after practicing on his sister.  
Yuri had stilled under his capable and calming hands, visibly relaxing into the chair.  
  
It had been hard to stay quiet, to not let out sounds that would indicate that he’d maybe enjoyed it too much.  
  
Whatever. Yuri brings his mind back to the present, back to Otabek and the picture he posted. Back to the words underneath.  
_менің алтын жолбарысым,_ it reads, and Yuri doesn’t understand the meaning, but the middle word is familiar.   
  
“Beka?”  
“Yura?” Otabek tilts his head to the side as he looks into Yuri’s eyes.  
“What did you write?”  
  
Otabek Altin, the bastard, just smiles that calm, gentle, barely-there smile of his.  
  
Yuri’s grown since they met last, is barely taller than Otabek now (truthfully it’s such a miniscule difference it’s impossible to tell, but Yuri _knows_ ) and he tries to use it to his advantage, tries to loom over him, wants to make him say just _what the fuck_ it was he wrote underneath the picture he posted.  
  
“Please,” Yuri growls out at last, not used to asking, not used to being nice, not really.  
  
Otabek suddenly looks away from him, no longer meeting Yuri’s gaze and it’s worse, worse than not knowing, worse that Yuri’s need to know made Otabek break eye contact with him, eyes instead fixed on a point behind Yuri. Because Otabek looks uncomfortable now, jaw tensing after he opens his mouth as though to speak, only to close it again.   
  
Yuri can almost hear his teeth grinding.  
  
“Shit, Beka, I’m… Never mind. You don’t have to tell me.”  
“Want to go for a ride?”  
“What?!”  
“There’s a rental place just down the street,” Otabek says, pointing towards the place and it makes Yuri hope Otabek looked away because he caught sight of it, and not because of his own nagging.  
“Sure,” Yuri replies, trying to sound nonchalant, wishing the weather allowed for hoodies so he could hide his face and stick his hands deep into the pockets, ball them into fists.  
  
Annoyed as he is at not knowing what Otabek wrote, he still can’t imagine undoing the braid in order to hide behind his long hair.  
  
“Do you have something you want to show me?” Otabek asks as they mount the bike, a sleek, black and powerful thing, not that different from the one in Barcelona, at least not to Yuri’s untrained eyes.  
“No,” Yuri says, knowing his voice sounds subdued and hoping Otabek won’t hear it.  
“Okay.”  
  
Otabek starts the bike, and the purr of the engine sends a spark of thrill and excitement through Yuri, who’s only ever been on one once before.  
  
Yuri swears that no matter what happens in the future, he’ll only ever think of Otabek when he sees a bike. He hopes they’ll get to do this again, that it can become their thing, a better thing than tea although Yuri can’t honestly say he doesn’t mind.   
At least not if Otabek keeps buying him iced tea.  
  
They go slow through the town and keep the same pace once they’re on the outskirts.  
  
As much as Yuri would like to go faster, to feel the thrill of the speed and wind, he knows Otabek was right in his choice as neither of them is dressed for a ride, in shorts and tank tops, instead of proper clothing for this kind of outing.  
  
Yuri’s not really been outside the city much, so he takes in the scenery, arms wrapped around Otabek’s waist.  
  
It’s calming, to be together like this. Impossible as it is to talk, it helps Yuri not feel like he needs to talk just for the sake of filling the silence. Still not used to having friends, Yuri doesn’t quite know how to act around other people, fearing the silence will grow large and looming, awkward and pressing.   
  
He should have known better though, when it comes to Otabek.  
  
They drive for a little while, following the coast until Yuri taps Otabek’s shoulder and signals for him to take a left off of the road.  
Otabek nods and does as Yuri wants, following the winding paths through the trees until they emerge on the other side, watching the ocean open up in front of them.  
  
The beach is heavily populated on a day like this, but Yuri pays them no mind.  
  
Yuri’s hungry now, and so he keeps an eye out, assessing the different places to eat, but it’s Otabek who makes the choice.  
Otabek leads the way into a small place which - amongst other things - rents out what one needs for picnics and bbq’s, and buys what they need for a picnic.  
  
They leave the beach, heading into the wooded area instead.  
  
For a while they walk in silence, as the sounds from the families on the beach and the waves lapping at the shore grows ever more distant the further away they walk, until they reach a large enough opening between the trees.  
  
Together they put down the blanket before sitting down.  
  
Yuri can’t remember the last time he went on a picnic, if ever, and tells Otabek as much. Otabek says he can remember the last time he did, but that it’s been ages and the strict training regiment and a lack of anyone (apart from family) to go with only lessened the thought of doing so again.   
  
They eat in silence, enjoying sounds of the woodland around them; such a sharp contrast to the city life they’re both so used to.  
  
When the food is eaten and most of the water’s gone, they lie down on their backs and talk for a while; getting used to being around a friend again instead of rinkmates, and talking about how the season’s going so far and how their programs work out and what plans they have for their future ones.  
  
After some time they fall silent, just basking in the sunlight, watching as the sky grows darker, sunset approaching.  
  
“‘ _My golden tiger_ ’,” Otabek says as he glances over at Yuri, who is bathed in golden light. It’s been hours or minutes since either of them spoke; Yuri can’t honestly tell how long it’s been.  
“Hmm?” Yuri hums a question, too tired to articulate properly.  
“It’s what I wrote under the photo of you.”  
“Oh…” Yuri suddenly feels too awake, heart thumping and a nervous energy spreading through his body.  
  
Otabek looks through the trees, towards the beach even though the fir and spruce block it from view.  
  
Even so, the setting sun shines through the firs and spruce, colouring the air a gold tinted purple.  
But Yuri doesn’t notice that; he only has eyes for Otabek, who lies next to Yuri, staring up at the sky and maybe if Yuri wasn’t so focused on his own reactions to the words, then maybe he would have noticed the tension in Otabek’s body as he admits the truth.  
  
Yuri doesn’t speak for a long time, unable to finds the right words.  
  
“I can take it down if you want to,” Otabek says after a while, and as much as he tries to keep his voice level, Yuri can hear the uncertainty.  
“No, it’s… you can keep it.”  
“Are you sure?” Otabek asks, and no, he isn’t, not really, because the implications of the words…  
  
They’re silent for a while longer, as the sky grows darker.  
  
“Beka?”  
“Yes?”  
  
Fuck, it really shouldn’t be this hard. It’s Beka, they’re _friends_. But maybe… maybe they can…  
  
“Be more?” The words slip out, unbidden, not meant to be given sound, but there they are, hanging in the air.  
“Yura?” Otabek is finally looking at him again, and there’s the faintest spark of hope in his eyes, and that is all it takes.

  
Yuri surges forward.   
  
He falls on top of Otabek, straddling him, one hand on each side of his face as he eyes roam over his face, searching for an answer to the question not asked, and when Otabek visibly relaxes, that gentle, soft barely-there smile on his lips again, Yuri kisses him.   
  
Now, this might be Yuri’s first kiss but he’ll be damned if he is going to let it get in the way.   
  
So he he channels all his pent up emotions, the feelings he didn’t understand until now into the kiss, hoping Otabek’s as good as he looks when it comes to understanding the unspoken truth, to knowing what Yuri doesn’t know how to put into words.   
  
Kissing Beka is wonderful.   
  
He meets Yuri’s inexperience with his own, calm even as Yuri can feel Otabek’s heart stuttering, beating as fast as his own.    
When Otabek’s hands wind into Yuri’s hair, undoes the windswept hair and his nail scrape against his scalp, Yuri keens, shivers at the sensation.   
  
Yuri feels lightheaded, feels not like himself and yet more like himself than he’s ever done before at the same time.   
  
“Beka,” he whispers against Otabek’s lips as he pulls away slightly to breathe, then again and again as he kisses his way from the corner of Otabek’s lips to his jaw, then along it, peppering all of Otabek’s stupidly beautiful face with kisses and utterances of his name.   
  
And when Otabek tilts his head back, well, Yuri isn’t one to hesitate, so he gives attention to the exposed skin there.   
  
Not leaving a mark is difficult, but explaining one so visible would be even more so, and so Yuri assembles some sort of self control and moves back up to kiss Otabek on his lips again.    
As much as he’d like to deepen the kiss, Yuri’s still thankfully aware enough to appreciate it when Otabek doesn’t part his lips when Yuri licks and then nibbles on his lower lip. Thankfully, there’s an awareness at the back of his mind that tells him it’s better this way, more controlled, less likely to go too far.   
  
So Yuri eases back, enough to lay down beside Otabek, head on his chest.   
  
He can hear the heartbeats really well, Yuri’s own head rising in time with each calming breath Otabek takes.   
Fingers comb through his hair, easing out the knots and calming him.    
  
They stay like that until it’s dark, until the stars fill the sky.   
  
“Yura.”   
“Hmmm?”   
“Come on, We can’t sleep here.”   
“Can so.”   
  
Otabek laughs, the sound rumbling through Yuri’s body as well. It makes him think of cuddling up with Potya and hearing her rumbling purr.   
  
“Okay,” Yuri concedes, but only because he really  _ is _ tired and would rather sleep in his own bed - though he is not willing to admit it, “but first…”   
“Yura…” Otabek sighs.   
“Relax Beka. I was just wondering if you know any constellations?”   
  
Silence fills the air again, as Otabek seems to consider Yuri’s question.   
  
“See that one there?” he points to a spot on the sky, and Yuri thinks he is looking at the right place. “That’s  _ шаян _ . And that one is  _ Кассиопия. _ ”   
“How about that one?” Yuri asks, pointing to another constellation, southwest of the second one.   
“That is  _ акила. _ ”   
  
There’s a pause.   
  
“You know I don’t know what the names of them mean right?” Yuri asks, and it earns him another laugh from Otabek.    
“I have only learnt their names in Kazakh.”   
“Oh. Well…” Yuri pauses, chews on his lips. “Maybe you can teach me then?”   
“Of course, Yura.”   
  
Otabek Altin is the greatest thing to have happened to Yuri Plisestsky.


End file.
